The Long White Box With The Red Ribbon
by KillerBlu
Summary: Had he been a machine, he would have noticed immediately. The way Hank carefully placed the bag in the back drivers seat. How it sat on the cleanest part of the kitchen table when they came home. Connara. Hank being a bear. Low key perverted Connor.
1. Chapter 1

The long white box with the red ribbon wasn't visible throughout the day. It was hidden deep in a brown bag that sat on Hank's desk. When he saw it, Connor dismissed it as nothing but a leftover lunch. That was Connor's first mistake.

The irony of being distracted by ignorance itself. Had Connor been a machine, he would have noticed immediately. The way Hank carefully placed the box in the back drivers seat. How it sat on the cleanest part of the kitchen table when they came home.

But he was also distracted by something else. Something far stronger than ignorance. Much more alive. Thoughts. Since his deviancy, he had many in his memory. Questions. Ideas. Theories. Untouched by his free mind. Rarely was there time to dwell but now, with Detroit at a peaceful standstill, he could step back and feel them all. Lose himself, as humans often described it.

He spent quite a lot of time thinking about one thing in particular. The latest guests of the Anderson household: the young female android maid and the little girl.

Little did he know, the most confounding moment of his life would begin.

-XXXX-

"Hey uh, girls?"

"Yes Hank?"

Kara and Alice always seemed to be haunted by a certain aura of fear, but when Hank spoke to them, they would perk like children in the presence of puppies. However the old man did it, he got them to smile, sometimes even make the little girl laugh. They were genuine reactions. Free of the restraint they often had whenever Hank was absent in the house. Whenever it was…

"Got you two something. Follow me."

The old man angles his head toward the kitchen and walks on, bumping Connors shoulder along the way. Neither Kara nor Alice follow the human yet. They turn toward him instead, Kara choosing to meet him directly.

She appeared as she always did whenever they made the slightest of eye contact. Her shoulders hunched and her bottom lip pursed. He doesn't understand right away but it was a search of permission. That he was ok with them here. And now she was asking for permission to pass.

He stares back blank until he gets it. Quickly he steps aside, nodding away in a futile apology. From the corner of his eye he watches Kara walk by at a crawling speed, Alice pattering close behind. They had never been this far into the Anderson household. He had forgotten that.

A feeling that's cold and empty passes into his system as he watches them. The moment he and Hank discovered them on the streets again, they put them under their protection. Kara and Alice, who were so kind and gentle but so broken. Quiet, and careful but so difficult. For Connor at least. Every night, they were required to check in at Hank's house and every night, they avoided him, holding up shelter on the couch in silence.

"Oh?"

Connor turns up from this thoughts to see Hank pushing the box into Kara's hands. The long white box with the red ribbon. It slides into her hands and Kara sways back. A small part of Connors eye lid twitches. The old man could have been gentler but there was a bit of alcohol in his blood.

"A gift?" She hardly looked confused at all. She stands with an expression that was new to all of them. Not a smile or a laugh but wonder. Excitement.

Hank grins and nods his head. Connor frowns. Odd behaviors were all around him.

"I mean I don't know many other young ladies." Hank goes to rub his mouth but the smile is still there. He looks away briefly. Up at the ceiling. Connor doesn't understand. "Figured I could pass it to you rather than go back to that hellhole of a shopping center."

Among the wave of oddities, Connor picks up that one quick, Not once had he seen Hank mingle with a female police officer. But no matter. Kara had turned the box in her hands. She was humming. She never did that.

It was a slight quick wondering tune. Barely detected by human ears. She winds the ribbon in her fingers and uncoils them in a seamless stroke.

He felt his thirium pump.

He thinks of his coin. The tiny metal ringed as it flipped and rolled around. In Kara's hands, however there is no sound. Her motions are slower, feather light and graceful. It would dance between her fingers like a flower in the wind.

"Wow…"

The voice of young Alice pulls him back. He focuses on the little girl. She had been staring up with wide eyes. Her face practically beamed.

Connor remembered the time he saw the little human girl smile because of him. It was the day he brought home a stuffed bear. She looked at it with a soft expression. Now, he watches her stare wide eyed and sparkling at a box being undone in Karas hands.

He runs a audit scan of her face. He'd have to get her at least ten bears for an equal reaction.

"Oh Hank..."

He thought he was the one who… Well, he was the one who found them. He was the one who convinced Hank to talk to them. He was the one that pushed Hank-that yes-it was worth risking their jobs to keep them safe. But Connor was not the one who spoke to them.

And now they were beaming. Alice ecstatic and Kara, in sheer wonder. All because of what was inside this box.

And then. This. Kara lifted her arms and the item in question unfolded before them.

"Oh..."

Connor reacts differently. His brow furrows and his interface comes alive. His scanners fly out in silence, invisible lines crossing over the item like a newfound treasure. He analyzed every detail, every strand, every molecule. He received nothing in return.

It was just a dress.

It was made of materials that would waste his data banks. It was dyed in a color that had no relevance in toxicology. It was untouched by blood, thirium or any soiling chemical. It was a dress. A simple piece of clothing. Mundane and-

Kara hugs it to her chest, blushing easy across her cheeks. She turns to Hank and her eyes shine as she speaks.

"It's lovely Hank… Thank you. Thank you so much."

-He had to know more.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/** **N:** So this was supposed to be a one shot. Whoops! This one is in Hanks POV as a heads up. Also not beta read or anything. I also upped the rating for cursing in this chapter and suggestive themes that may come later.

* * *

"If she likes it so much why isn't she wearing it."

"You can ask her that you know."

"Why? _You_ got her the dress."

"Yeah...? I did...? Is there a problem?"

"No. No problem at all, _Lieutenant_."

And he slips his hand out the handle, letting the department door slam inches away from his face.

Hank had seen many versions of the android, and, up until now, he thought he had dealt with them all. Annoyed Connor, Frustrated Connor. Upset Connor. Worried Connor. Confused Connor.

But this kind of Connor.

Jesus Christ have mercy.

x - x

"Can you describe it please?"

"Yes yes of course! Well now, the two shirts were blouses. Both blue with a little ruffle in the collars. Did I mention they were collared? Yes, both of them. Two fine cotton blue collared shirts-that were white-I should add-the collars were white! Yes, it does sound quite odd. Blue shirts with white collars but chic fashion makes the rules and I myself the seamstress can only follow what they tell me! So yes, yes, The shirts were blue. Well blue _and_ white! You know, anyone can really talk for hours about clothes but when…oh! Oh, I'm rambling! ...Are you getting all of this, sir?"

"Huh?"

Hank had been typing at his computer, nodding and grunting in effort to push the conversation to an end. It was a quiet morning for homicide. No work to handle and no leftover paperwork. Nothing to do but take small cases from other divisions. Small cases like little old ladies who believed their private boutique store was robbed.

"Sir? I said are you getting all of this, sir?"

"Yeah yeah I am…. Is that it?"

The old woman laughs.

"Oh ho _no_ sir! That's not even half the detail! I haven't described the back yet!"

Hank suppresses a lions groan behind his smile. The lady had spectacles the size of beer coasters. For an hour, she struggled to find his desk and she still couldn't find his face. Her head was currently angled at a box of donuts.

He didn't mean to think so cruelly but cases like this screamed, "accident". Soon enough, none of this would matter. The old lady would find a way to call the department and tell them, oh, my clothes were home all along! Yes the store is fine. In fact I don't even own a store! I'm sorry gentlemen. Happy Birthday now.

It sounded ridiculous but the old lady was most likely one of those regulars. The lovely ones who came to file faulty cases. Today was just his lucky day.

"Now sir! Every item is unique you know. There's no other like it! I sew them all myself, so every detail matters." She takes a breath and turns her head to a photo of Sumo. "And I appreciate the help of your assistant. He's been absolutely adamant at his work. I cannot wait to see his results."

Hank smirks at that. When the old lady finally arrived at their desk, Connor pulled up a seat for her, eager to put someone else in their space. The android had been silent and refused to speak to anyone without it being case related. Needless to say, the old lady had put him to work. Right away, she began describing her plea and right away, Connor opened his programming to recreate the descriptions on his screen. He had been silent ever since.

"Oh sirs! I just remembered something else! I also had a dress stolen too!"

He hears a chair stop.

"Really? Tell me."

"Oh, my certainly! Of course! I've got my list right here… I believe it is…ah ha! Now then, let me see….It wasn't too long or sturdy, yes that's right. It could blow in the wind easy you know, like a bed sheet. Not cotton. Lighter. Do you know the term viscose? Spandex? None of that drill. This was pure silk."

He didn't notice it right away. He was too busy typing up his own account. But suddenly…

"But did I compare it to a bed sheet? Oh no how could I... The dress is so much more precious than that… Ah. Yes. Do you need to know the other materials too? I had embroidery and lace... Sir..?"

Suddenly there were sounds. Keys being smacked. A mouse sliding too quick.

Hank peered up over his screen.

It was coming from Connor.

"To put it simply, silk is a gentle kind of fabric as it should always be… Very soft. Very light but not warm... Wouldn't serve a good purpose if it was! Oh but the color was special. A white cream you could say."

He'd say Connor looked odd. Or rather odder, but the android had a stick up his ass, so, he looked exactly as he should. As any pissed off human would appear. Lips twisted. Brows furrowed. Shoulders stiff.

"You know, the kind of shade in a clean moisturizer-but not any kind of store brand-no. I mean, just a touch of oatmeal-but just a touch!"

But his eyes were different. They didn't look angry. They looked like he was looking down a cliff. Down a cliff and...blushing.

"Uh…." Very soon, Hanks phone vibrated. A mass sent message from one of his coworkers.

It was a live video of Connor from behind. He was struggling, with his computer of all things. Each time he uploaded a description from the old lady, the dress on screen refused to change. And there was something familiar about it. It was a dress but…and then it hits. It was Kara's dress, and it was fighting him, meaning his own system memory was fighting him from doing anything at all. For every tap and click-it pops back on the screen, refusing to leave.

Connor hits the monitor. The screen flashes briefly and Hank swears he hears something from Fowler's office (did they really send this to Jeffrey?) but the dress returns, faster, and this time, in duplications. It pops over his screen in relentless batches. Soon other pictures filled in. Pictures of Kara. Kara sitting on the couch. Kara standing by the door. Kara holding the dress. Kara. Kara. Kara.

The video ends. Just in time for Hank to hear a computer shutting down and a chair wheeling back.

"You can have my seat ma'am! My computer isn't working. Does anyone have a clipboard and pen that I can borrow?!"

"Oh why thank you! And oh young man! You can use my tablet if you'd like!"

"I require specific materials."

It was unnatural and it was hilarious but he wasn't going to say anything. Not yet. Not when his face looked like fruit punch. Lunch break couldn't come soon enough.

x - x

Shit he couldn't wait for lunch to be over.

"Look will you stop glaring like that."

"I'm not glaring."

"You want me to take a picture of your face and show you?"

"...No."

"Then stop it. What the hell are you even mad about anyway?"

"I'm not mad, Hank."

"Right."

"…Enjoy your meal."

"Hah."

The chicken feed used to be a time of separate peace for Hank and Connor. It was a time for Hank to eat and for Connor to reflect, ask him questions or share an idea about anything on his mind. Today it would be very different. It would be their first break in total silence. At first it seemed that way but just then, the android cop speaks up.

"She's young."

Hank looks up from his last bite. He doesn't register

"Yeah?" He picks away at his container and reaches for a fry. "The reception lady at the desk? The ticket holder in the lot?The woman on the line back there? Who's young Connor?" He tosses the fry at him.

Connor doesn't flinch as it hits his shoulder. "She's young." He repeats.

Hank sighs. "Look you really, you really think I'm m trying to do that?"

"…I did my research. It's not just any dress Hank."

"Oh fuck you… you looked it up? I mean of course you did. Along with the several hundred photos of her face in your god damn head I shouldn't be fuckin' surprised."

His cheeks turn berry blue. "C-Can I get to my point?"

"Get to your pointless point Connor."

"The dress isn't what you think it is. It's made of satin and sheer fabric. It's not meant to be worn outdoors."

Hank sighs. "Yes idiot I know it's sleepwear. It's so she doesn't sleep in her damn work clothes every night."

"…Sleepwear."

"Yeah."

Connor just looked at him. Slowly his brows unknot. Slowly, he looks away from Hank and down at his hands.

"…Why do they call them intimates then?"

Hank coughs and stands from the table. "Well….Look. Again. It's not what you think. Now c'mon. We're running late."

Connor shakes his head as he follows. "You're a strange man lieutenant."

"So are you. Oh and by the way. I told her the dress was your idea."


	3. Chapter 3

**A** / **N** : Did I say threeshot? Oof. One more after this. It'll be more like the first chapter. Anyway. Some suggestive stuff ahead here.

* * *

Accessing Memory Defragmentation/

….

….

Memory Found /

…

…

Begin Memory Defragmentation/

…

…

"You'll look pretty Kara."

"Thank you, Alice."

Wrong.

She was already pretty. What did the dress improve? What even needed to be improved upon? It was confusing. It was untrue, and the fact that Alice would need correction, perturbed him. He would let it slide however. She was a smart child and he often forgot she was not an android but just a little human girl.

…

…

Accessing Memory Defragmentation/

….

….

Memory Found /

…

…

Begin Memory Defragmentation/

…

…

"You should spin when you wear it. Like in the movies!"

"You want me to spin, Alice?"

Wrong.

She should absolutely not spin. She'd become a dangling lure for Sumo otherwise. The bouldering St. Bernard had a growing obsession for long table cloths and hanging laundry. The dress would quickly join the list. Of that he was certain.

He was mostly certain.

He was, for the most part certain.

He was….The simple fact was this. He didn't know the real answer. Was the dress really long? It had been a week and Kara had yet to wear it.

…

…

Opening Model Simulation. /

…

…

It begged the question.

He pulled the data from last week. He lined up the dimensions of the dress with the ax400 and runs the process. The render is immaculate, down to the very physics of the fabric and every molecule of her synth skin.

The dress begins to overlay, hovering over the standard ax400 uniform that it would soon replace. However in haste for results, the uniform disintegrates too quick. The hem of the dress floats near the thigh, exposing a curve of her body unknown to his eyes.

…

…

Mod

el Si

m

ulation/

Mem

ory Defra

gmen

tation/

…

/

A live wire sparks.

"What the hell?"

Hank's voice. Hank's voice coming from across the room. Hank's voice that was definitely in the present.

He shifts out of the flickering defragmentation fields, slowly booting to consciousness.

Synopsis uploading . It was morning. They were supposed to be on their way out to work. Hank was taking more time than usual. Connor had decided to use this time to defrag memories. …Attempt to defrag.

"Connor."

Hank's voice again. Passing him by.

"Did you just... _sneeze_?"

He opens his eyes at last to see his own hand hovering by his face. It must have risen when his program suddenly closed. Just as his eyes had suddenly closed and that strange spark sound suddenly began.

Further investigation was still needed. Connor studies his hand. The back is clean. The front holds several droplets of fresh thirium.

He looks up to see Hank staring at him.

"Are you…"

He opens his mouth to speak when another voice, far too close and beautiful, interrupts.

"Is everything alright?"

"I heard him sneeze too!"

He doesn't have time to answer Hank. He turns around foolishly,and they're both right there.

Staring. Her eyes, are staring at him. Not in fear for once. Open in a care he had only seen in simulations.

He feels more blood rush inside him.

"I'm fine!"

He backs out the door.

Xx-xX

…

…

Opening Model Simulation. /

He didn't understand.

It fit her body, but not her whole body. It didn't accentuate space to be bulky. It hung snug but then loose in places. And then it just…stopped.

Perhaps if he envisioned different positions it would make sense and the memory would finally fade. He imagines her in the dress, walking to the bus. Her in the dress, sitting on the soles of her feet on the grass. Her in the dress, stretching, arms and legs out in the sun.

Her in the dress, folds bunched in his hands-the sound of her voice-his name- filling his head.

Memory Defragmentation/

/

Memory Defragmentation/

/

Memory Defragmentation/

/

"Connor!"

His eyes snap open.

He's back in the police department. Sitting blank in his office chair. An alarm in his interface beeped. It was a reminder his break was over. It had been on repeat for a while.

Again. The lieutenant was staring at him.

"Look," he sighs. "I know you walked here today but."

"S-Sorry Hank. I was thinking about..." He glances for the nearest case file and his lips clamp. At some point, his hand had interfaced with his computer. Once again, every inch of his screen was littered with certain images.

The old man doesn't even chuckle.

"You're fucking hopeless you know that?"


End file.
